Silly Conversations
by CFUnlimited
Summary: Crackfic! Between the enormity of saving the world and the pressure of starting a new family, Cloud and Tifa find a way to be impossibly immature, and kinda stupid. Post-OG, oneshot  maybe longer with reviews . Please R&R! You know you want to...
1. Chapter 1

The entire premise of this story is a line in Case of Tifa, where Tifa herself talks about all the silly conversations she has with Cloud. It got me thinking, "What _kind_ of silly conversations?" So, this story was born. I hope it's funny, as I don't have much experience with comedy, but that's beside the point. As a note, this takes place before Denzel arrives, and a ragamuffin is defined as "a ragged, disreputable person." Hope you like it!

* * *

He was late. As she cleaned the bar, she couldn't help but wonder where he was, as he had promised to help her clean up the bar earlier that morning. But now she stood behind the counter, slowly wiping a cloth across the marble with her warrior's eyes trained on the door.

She was so busy trying to intimidate the thick wood of the door that she didn't notice the shadow cover the small window. As such, she jumped with a loud yelp as Cloud shouldered the door open, stumbled in, and slammed the door shut behind him.

An awkward silence hung in the air, and Tifa couldn't help but notice how dirty he was. Seriously, this boy was filthy. It's like he had an unfortunate encounter with a buck chocobo in a muddy field during mating season. With Cloud's hair and tendency to wear dresses, it would only be natural for the poor bird to confuse him for a potential mate.

Cloud stood tall and turned to face Tifa, his expression like a young boy trying to solve a particularly problematic math problem.

"What's a raga?"

Tifa blinked, and held Cloud's gaze. "A what now?"

"A raga," he stated flatly, as if it were okay for him to not know it, but Tifa definitely should. He spread his hands, "I think it's a kind of fruit or berry or something. Does that help?"

"No, but I think you need some help," Tifa said, grinning like a little devil as she did so.

Cloud, still disheveled and dirty with a curious look on his face, looked only entirely crazy. He didn't seem to catch her joke, and kept talking, "I looked it up in the book you gave me, but it wasn't there."

"You mean the fruits and veggies book?"

"Yeah," he said, finally leaving the door and walking forward to plop on a stool by the bar. He took the book out of his back pocket, laid it on the counter, and stared at the cover, trying to get its secrets to be revealed.

Tifa leaned forward and glared at the book too, letting a low, playful growl escape her throat as she did so.

They stayed like that a while, until her curiosity got the better of her. "Cloud, why do you want to know what a raga is?"

He sat back and chewed his lower lip, trying to decide where to start. Tifa just waited, and tried not to laugh as she tried to imagine Cloud crammed into Marlene's desk at school with this same expression, trying to answer a question the teacher had posed.

"Okay," he said, finally laying out the plan of his story in his mind. "I was at the market, I wanted to pick up some carrots for you because I know you like carrot cake so much—," Tifa blushed at this, but didn't say anything, and he continued. "So I went to the produce stand, got my carrots, and was about to leave when I saw something… purple. Really, _really_ purple, much darker than my old SOLDIER uniform. So I wanted to find out what it was. So I took the… thing over to Fenrir where I had left my book and suddenly the shopkeeper started screaming at me!"

Tifa had to interrupt here, lightly touching Cloud on the arm. "Cloud, how far away did you park Fenrir?"

"About a block and a half. I left it at the entrance to the market, it's hard to navigate through the stalls with all the people there."

"So you took this vegetable from the stall, and just started walking toward the entrance to the market?"

"Yeah. Then she called me a ragamuffin! The shopkeeper, that is. No one's ever used baked goods as an insult for me before."

Tifa stuffed her face firmly into her palm, trying to imagine that Cloud was just joking, that he'd burst out laughing at any minute and tease her for believing him in the first place.

"So, I asked her what a ragamuffin tasted like and why I was like one, and she just looked at me."

Nope.

"Then I figured she wanted me to find out for myself, so I asked if any local bakeries sold ragamuffins so I could try eating one. Again, she just looked at me!"

Tifa had her face in both hands now, trying to decide if she should be laughing or consoling him. She could try laughing _while_ consoling him, but he might catch on.

"So, when that didn't work, I asked her if I could get a recipe for ragamuffins to make them myself, at which point she said 'Screw it, it's only an eggplant' and went back to her stall."

Tifa couldn't hold back anymore, "Cloud, you _do_ realize why she yelled at you, right?"

Cloud thought, then shook his head. "Not interested about that. I just want to know what a ragamuffin is."

She smiled, and laid her hand on his upper arm, "I'll explain it to you if you help me make the stew. Deal?"

Cloud blushed and nodded. "I'll go get the carrots."

Tifa went back to the kitchen, and once in her safe haven away from Cloud's sensitive hearing, burst out laughing. She laughed until her eyes watered, calming down enough to stand straight again and wipe a tear from her eye.

Cloud was at the door to the kitchen, a downcast look on his face. Tifa's heart tightened, and just as she was about to apologize for her outburst, Cloud held out an eggplant in his hand.

"I forgot about the carrots in the excitement. Sorry," he mumbled.

Tifa eyed the eggplant, feeling a grin spread on her face. Eventually, that grin turned into a smile and that smile into a laugh, until she was bent over like she had been before.

"It's okay Cloud, eggplant stew isn't so bad…"

* * *

Not too bad I hope... Please R&R!


	2. Chapter 2

Another chapter based on a part in Case of Tifa, this time the section where Tifa tries to come up with a name for their new bar, and (somewhat stupidly) turns to Cloud for help. I'm guessing the conversation went something like this...

(Not actually, but it seems more dramatic if I say that. Enjoy the story, and please review!)

* * *

"Awright, take fifteen! That's enough for now!" screamed Barret, before stomping away muttering something about "incompetent city folk don't even know what a goddamn hammer is much less which end to use…"

Pausing to wipe sweat of his brow, Cloud glanced around the construction with a small sprinkling of pride. Construction on their new home and bar was coming along smoothly, and if Barret didn't open fire on the window frames, they'd be done the exterior by the end of the week.

"Hi Cloud," said Tifa, coming to stand beside him. "I need your help."

Cloud struck his 'cocky pose' (which he had copyrighted, so don't you kids try that at home) and met her gaze. "What do you need?"

"A name for the bar," she replied, holding her right hand under her chin as she thought. "I can't think of anything."

Cloud stared blankly. "It needs a name?"

"Of course it does! Now come on, help me think of something."

"How about _'Bar'_. That's what it is, right?"

Tifa gasped, "You can't do that! It's so… _boring!_ We need people to want to go to _our_ bar."

Cloud sighed. "Alright then, how do you get an interesting name?"

Tifa slowly began to descend into her own thoughts again. "I dunno, just think of something you like and turn it into a pun."

"Hmmm," mumbled Cloud, lost in his own thoughts now. All the teasing he had endured from Cid over the size of his sword and the perfectly styled shape of his hair had pounded the meaning of pun into his head, but he had never really tried to make one himself.

He started with the basics. _What do I like? Tifa. I don't think she'd like that as a bar name though. Silk dresses? Even worse, but that does remind me I need to go to the drycleaners… Seriously? Is that it? Wait, I like bikes! What was that one called from Shinra? Hardy Daytona? That's IT!_

"I have an idea," said Cloud, waiting to make sure Tifa was paying attention to him again. When she looked up and smiled, Cloud cracked into a wide grin. "'_Hardy Day's Night_!'"

_Win Strife, just… win._

Tifa didn't seem as impressed, "What?"

"You said make a pun, I did. Don't like it?" he asked, sure she just didn't understand that it was the perfect name.

"Pun's usually mean… something," she said, waving her arms for emphasis. "That makes no sense."

"It does," he retorted.

…

"Wanna explain how exactly?" Tifa asked, hands firmly locked onto her hips.

"There's a saying in Corel, one Barret always uses. 'It's been a hard day's night.' It's like that, only with a Hardy Daytona in there."

"Oh," said Tifa eyebrows furrowed together. "That's better than I thought, but still too obscure. Think of something else."

"Too obscure? What's your idea then?" Cloud asked.

"I was thinking… '_The Cutting Edge_,' since we're the first major bar in Edge. Not bad, huh?" said Tifa, looking at Cloud with a wide smile.

Cloud yawned and put a hand over his mouth, "Not interested."

Tifa stamped her foot and poked an angry finger into his chest. "Oh yeah? Let's hear another from you, make sure it makes sense this time."

She poked him a couple more times, and he swatted her hand away. "Finger! What the hell?"

"Come on hot shot," said Tifa, arms crossed. "I'm waiting. Give me a good bar name."

"'_The Finishing Touch_,'" said Cloud.

"Oh how self-serving. How about _Final Heaven_," replied Tifa.

"I'm not entirely certain of the definition of self-serving…" said Cloud, "…but I think that's it. '_Meteor Shots' _is much better."

Tifa rolled her eyes, "Yeah, if you want to give every customer post traumatic stress disorder. You do realize Meteor almost _killed everyone_, right?"

"Oh," he said. "Forgot about _that_ Meteor… Okay then, what's your suggestion?"

"How about _'Last Elixir,'_" said Tifa. "You know, promising an alluring and daring night. Not quite the image I had in mind, but it'll work. Certainly bring us good business."

Cloud thought of Tifa selling _alluring and daring nights_ and stiffened noticeably. "No good. It's a misnomer, telling people one thing but giving them another. We'll have a more friendly place."

Tifa stopped to rub the bridge of her nose. "Cloud, we aren't getting anywhere. Maybe we aren't cut out for this."

_Come on Cloud! One more name, make it work!_ "Uh…how about…_'Fresh Drinks by the Rotting Pizza?'_"

…

Tifa stopped rubbing her nose and looked at him, square in the eye. "No."

"Yeah, that wasn't very good…"

They both fell into silence, during which Cloud's mind raced to think of the perfect name to suggest, one that'd make her smile again. He couldn't think of anything.

Did a name really matter though? As long as he was with her, what else did they need? They'd make it work, and barring some totally improbable, poorly explained, devastating revival of a malevolence force, they'd stick together forever. Because he loved her.

"The name doesn't matter," he said, reaching out to grab her hand. Sliding his gloved fingers between hers, he smiled. "As long as you're there, I won't go anywhere else. It'll be the end of the line. Because I lo—."

Tifa frowned. "_'The End of the Line?'_ Would that work as a bar name? I guess it might, but…" She trailed off, pulling her hand from Cloud's grip to hold it to her chin. "Maybe I should ask Marlene." Lost in thought, Tifa walked away.

Cloud stayed where he was, watching her mutter to herself as she tried to find Marlene. He didn't say a word, just turned around and went back to his job of nailing window frames together. By Barret's count later that evening, Cloud had broken fourteen of their finest wooden frames because he hammered them too hard.

Cloud never offered an explanation.

* * *

Kinda OOC, yeah, but it's already happened. It can't unhappen. That's just be weird. Anyway...

R&R!


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